


Iron Bound

by RosalindInPants



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Gen, Hurt No Comfort, not for lack of trying on Wolfe's part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-11-27 01:51:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18188246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalindInPants/pseuds/RosalindInPants
Summary: Set during Ink and Bone. Morgan's last escape attempt has failed, and she's locked up and headed for the Iron Tower. Wolfe tries to comfort her.





	Iron Bound

When the doors of the High Garda transport closed, leaving her alone in the dark, Morgan was almost relieved. At least no one would see her falling apart. Captain Santi had given her blankets and a mat to sleep on, but she kicked them to the far back corner and sat on the bench built into the side of the vehicle, close to the door. Drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her head awkwardly on her bound arms, she cried until she wasn’t sure if she was empty or drowning.

She couldn’t tell whether it had been minutes or hours when the door opened and Scholar Wolfe came through, carrying a small glow that didn’t even give off enough light to reach the corners of the transport. When he pulled the door shut behind himself, Morgan could hear the lock slide shut on the outside. They weren't taking any chances with her anymore. He took a seat on the bench opposite Morgan’s and set the glow on the floor between them.

“I am truly sorry that it had to come to this,” he said, looking down so that the shadows fell across his eyes as he reached into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief.

She flinched away when he reached out to wipe the tears from her face. “Lot of good that does,” she muttered.

He nodded and put the handkerchief away. “It doesn’t help. I know. May I see your hands?”

Though she knew better, Morgan couldn’t let go of the tiny flutter of hope that he might unlock the irons that bound her. She held her breath as she extended her hands toward him.

Wolfe took her hands in his, and at first, he did nothing more than hold them. She thought he might have shivered, but surely it was her imagination. After a moment, he shifted his grip so that one of his hands held both of hers, while his other hand traced over the iron cuffs, inspecting them. He briefly slipped a finger beneath the cuff on one wrist, making it feel uncomfortably tight. “Nic got the size right. Good,” he said, more to himself than to her.

And then the hand probing at the cuffs lifted, reached into his robe again, and Morgan's hope grew almost painful, a caged bird between her ribs that struggled to break free. She would have given anything to see him pull a key from beneath those folds of black silk.

It must have been apparent in her expression, even in the dim light, because he shook his head as he took out not a key, but more damned black silk, two strips of it that looked like they could have been cut from his robe. “Would that I could free you from these, but that choice is lost to us,” he said softly. He brought one of the pieces of silk to her wrist and started to gently push the corner of it beneath the cuff. “There are risks even I will not take. The most I can do for you now is try to spare you a bit of pain.”

“What good is that going to do?” Morgan snapped. Tears were starting to well up again in her eyes, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. Let him see what he’d done, how badly this betrayal hurt.

“Irons will chafe,” he explained, still in that infuriatingly gentle tone. “I don’t know if this will prevent it entirely, but it should lessen -”

Morgan yanked her hands away from him, clutched them to her chest. The strip of silk fluttered to the floor, landing next to the glow. “Maybe it  _should_ chafe. Maybe being a slave  _should_ hurt. Maybe I don’t  _want_ to feel better about being hauled off in chains!” Her voice rose steadily with each word until she was screaming at him. “If you aren’t going to let me go, just  _go away_!”

Wolfe only gathered up the fallen silk, watching her with sad eyes as he did. He reached for the glow, but drew his hand back without picking it up. “Very well. If you change your mind, you need only ask for me or Nic.” He rose to leave, paused at the door. “Believe me when I say that I have done all that I could for you, Morgan. I am sorry that it was not enough.”

She kicked the glow to the corner, where it landed on top of the pile of blankets, then turned away and pulled her legs up onto the bench again, burying her head in her arms as best she could. She refused to so much as look at the Scholar as he knocked on the door and was let out. The door closed softly behind him, but the lock sounded as loud as thunder.


End file.
